Ethnic Identity

I've never been confused about my ethnic identity. That's not a slam against people who have been... there's just nothing to be confused about. I am as white as they come; blue eyed, brown haired, susceptible to sunburns. So lately, I've been getting some confusing feedback from people in Cambodia about my ethnicity.

First, after I pierced my nose, one of our staff members told me I looked Indian. Even with some funky earrings, I'm not sure how that's possible.

Then, when I had my hair pulled back with a scarf, someone said I looked very French. Also that I should be driving down the road in a convertible. That's not really an ethnic thing, but still... odd.

When I took a group of volunteers to Siem Reap, a seller at the market asked me if one of them was my mother. That's a pretty normal question, except in this case, the volunteer in question was Korean. A very nice woman, lots of fun, but, um, no, that's not my mom.

Today, when I walked into the office after being gone for a week, modeling a new haircut, I was only slightly surprised by my latest ethnic identity. Grace, our office manager, looked at me and said, "You look like a Thai girl." She proceeded to tell me that so many Thai girls look beautiful because they have a Thai mother and white father. I think there was a compliment in there somewhere...

It's not that I mind being mistaken for some other ethnic group. Most often, these comments stem from some change in style, and usually follow after some statement about how beautiful I am (good for the self-esteem, these Cambodians). My absolute favorite comment, however, happened recently, and is not at all related to my ethnicity, but my humanity.

I took part in a training course in Bangkok last week. One of the trainers was a man from Nepal (bearing a strong resemblance to Tom Cruise, not in an attractive way) who seemed to think that my colleague and I were hilarious and great fun (very astute, this man). The trainings ended around 5, and we used the evenings to shop and explore Bangkok. However, he seemed to think that we should be spending a bit more time with the other students. "It is very hard to find some people after the trainings," he said one morning, "They are like angels, flitting off to someplace else."

It seems that not only am I Thai, Korean, French, and Indian, I am also a celestial being. Or, perhaps, he just mistook me for one of the women on Charlie's Angels. Wasn't one of them named Kate, too?